When I speak in Basque Country, I am free. When I speak in another language, I oblige myself to it and in the rigid moulds that force my plastic Castilian: I am another person, one tone and without nuances. It's not me in Spanish. That is why I am free to speak in Basque, from the first word, even in situations in which others hope to go to Spanish. I owe myself, in this oppressive society - plural (by gender, race, sex, language, social class…), freedom.

We've been
giving explanations all of our life, and I've been doing it. “ARGIA only in Euskera, why?”; “What wonderful world will Euskera learn?”; “Why do today’s young people have to talk?”; “Why do immigrants in Euskera have to learn?”; “Why do forensics have to know Euskera?” He who is free needs no explanation. It's self-criticism towards yourself and when you want to. The subject is an incessant question on the part of others. I do in Basque the declared Castilian speakers, without questioning their capacity with a question “do you understand the Basque?”. From the creature, no one questioned my Spanish, and that's why I learned. We socialize as simple as we are firmly in Spanish. Today I answer them with one question when I am questioned by the Basque “and why do I have to do it in Spanish?”. I have not yet received any convincing explanation.

Everyone in his navel
is also Freedom. No, of course, feeling like you're the navel of the world, but yes, of course, being yourself in the navel of yourself. Shaft account. When we go to Spanish, how many times do we do it by putting another one on one's navel? A patient who is too old to learn, a newcomer who has a lot of work in everyday life, a friendly friend with whom we have a very good relationship... and now, we get off our navel and make room, courtesy, for peace, to the language in which he feels comfortable. Everyone with a stupid attitude who has become accustomed to discomfort, saying “quiet, mine doesn’t matter” as others are constantly serving.

Now, every time I take the liberty of speaking in Euskera, I remember Rosa Louis Parks. I feel happy, free, proud, on this bus or in this society I have my seat. And I take my place. I am worthy of him as much as the other who is suggesting that I rise up, and therefore I remain in my place, quiet, happy, smiling. And I laugh at myself when I see how many times I've gotten out of the bank before anyone asked me, civically, to deal with stupid situations. How many times have I moved from where I was and from my navel. How many times and without saying a word, we Basques have committed suicide.

I've also given myself that freedom,
that those who feel free in Basque are my goal, my goal, my goal. Talk about them and for them. Excuse me, I have not convinced all Basques of any speech, of any response, or of any plan that will provide a solution to all. It is an institution and important people who take care of it, and thank you, it is very necessary. But I miss those who feel free in Euskera putting themselves at the centre of plans, speeches and campaigns, almost always. And please, to put more burden and work than we don’t carry (“you the first word in Basque”, “you accuse it”, “you set an example”, “you”...). We feel more comfortable and we are freer. To put the logic of free Euskaldunes at the centre almost always, a self-centralized discourse.

We're already one of those abnormal languages that don't have monolinguals. When they lived, we didn't put them in the center, we didn't take advantage of their contribution. We are glad and proud that we are not monolingual (Euskera is always the only language), but alas, we forget to explain that monolingualism is over, to those who are in Spanish. Or those of us who come from abroad and drive them to Spanish only.

The monolinguals have been murdered, and now it is centres that are free in Euskera, the conscious, the ideologized, the politicized. For the institutions, I don't know, for myself.

Read the full article (including the parts “without backpacks” and “liberation processes are done collectively”) www.argia.eus on the blog Gaitzerdi.